


Adhesion

by unklarity



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabbles, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unklarity/pseuds/unklarity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda cannot open her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

Miranda can’t remember the very fist time clearly - the first time she looked at Jack and saw more than _delinquent_ or _criminal_ \- it all melds together in her head at night when she can’t sleep and she imagines the other woman alone in the dark hollow of the ship’s underbelly, bites her lip, keeps her hands glued together in defiance. Not today.

 

-she thinks it was Horizon, or maybe that time in the mess hall and she’s not sure what brought it on but the word was most definitely _beautiful_ , not _hulking_ or _immature_ or _psychotic_ like it always was. If you’d have asked her before that Miranda would have laughed, said Jack wasn’t worth Shepard’s time, her time, anyone’s time. Shouldn’t have taken her out of cryo, but no, Shepard never listens, Miranda is too serious.

 

Seriously? She’s pressed up against the wall by Jack’s biotics and all she can think of are the woman’s hands on her instead of her impending death. She can’t even fire back and it’s a good thing Shepard walks in, because Jack’s hands had been too warm and awfully close-

 

She closes her eyes and walks out of the room. Jack looks at her like she is the scum of the earth and Miranda cannot help but think, _why yes, I am_.


	2. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda prefers to be closer.

Miranda stays perfectly still, listening to the breathing of the woman next to her. If they hadn’t been in her office, she thinks she might have left. In fact, the thought is still a soft whisper in the back of her mind as she hears the convict exhale heavily.

Jack rolls over, pinning her right arm to the mattress. She feels trapped - not only physically - but trapped under the weight of her own self. She shouldn’t be here, she should be Miranda Lawson; genetic perfection, super soldier, Cerberus operative. Instead, she’s sharing a bed with a known criminal, an unrepentant pirate, everything she is not. They sneak around the ship at night, evading the footsteps of the rest of the crew, and as Jack presses into her mouth, she remains deathly still, painfully silent. Digs her nails into the naked skin of Jack’s shoulder, gasping as the other woman’s breath hitches violently.

Miranda cannot keep her eyes open under the red light of the subdeck, cannot look at the harsh shadows playing on Jack’s face; it reminds her too much of blood, too much of Teltin, Jack clutching at her legs, tears fleeing desperately from the corners of her eyes.

Jack sleeps with a pistol under her pillow. Miranda sleeps with a knife. She prefers to be closer.


	3. Altercation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The famous fight scene. Or something.

She's not sure what Shepard was thinking, pulling them apart like that. She could've ripped the bitch apart, smeared her blood over the walls of the Normandy's hull, painted it over her lips and tongue and felt Miranda sliding down her throat. It would've been so easy.

Jack slams her fist against the cold metal of the ship, spitting viciously on her boots, trying to clean her mouth of a taste that was never there. It's been haunting her dreams; driving her crazy since they'd gotten back from Pragia. Ever since she'd seen Miranda give her that look - not pity exactly, but something more dangerous that had reeked of sympathy like a rotting limb - no one had ever dared trying to understand her and lived to tell the tale. 

Still, Miranda's gaze doesn't let up even after they're back on the Normandy. It climbs down the stares and watches her on her threadbare cot of the lower decks. She can't escape from it, and it makes her want to vomit. Jack feels the rage disgust bubbling up inside her and the image of her hands wrapped around Miranda's perfect little neck, feeling the warmth of her body and her pulse pounding wildly at her throat-

She settles for storming up to Miranda's office, clenching her fists and letting her biotics crackle around her, watching the woman's eyes widening shock and what she desperately hopes is fear. Miranda should be afraid, if Jack is this terrified.

 _Jack_ , she hears a commanding voice grating against her ears, _let go_. She wonders what Shepard means by that, until she realizes that she's pushed Miranda up against the wall in a crash of blue energy. Her eyes flicker back to the Cerberus bitch, narrowing them slowly as they travel painstakingly down the other's body. Miranda's chest is heaving and her ragged breaths are overpowering all other sounds. 

Jack sighs shakily and lowers her hand.

"Whatever."


	4. Classified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack’s just looking out for herself, in the end.

When she first boards the Normandy, she can’t help the apprehension; the fear creeping in her gut at the sight of so many Cerberus ops -but she comforts herself with the thought that she could probably break all their flimsy little necks. The important thing is staying long enough on the ship to get the information Shepard promised her. And maybe eat something.

The stupid bitch that’d been with Shepard before weasels her way between them now, spouting some bullshit about how ‘that information is classified, Commander’ in her dumb little accent, and Jack thinks, damn, well if there’s one neck I’m gonna break first, it’s hers.

"Jack? Here’s the information," Shepard says, depositing the datapad in her hands and rolling her eyes in the direction of the complaint. “We need her, Miranda; she wants the files, she’ll get them." She taste the name on her tongue. Miranda. Sounds nice, for such a nasty-

"We’ll discuss this later, Commander, but just know the Illusive Man’s not going to be happy." Miranda glances at her with thinly veiled distaste , and it makes Jack’s insides tingle. She looks the taller woman up and down. “Got something to say, cheerleader?" She practically spits, crossing her arms across her chest. “If you’re done flapping that pretty little gob of yours, I’ve got things to do." There are a million other things Jack wants to say to her, but for once, she holds back. Shepard’s here, after all, and she wouldn’t want to give her new employer any doubts. After all, the woman clearly hates Cerberus, and jack feels like starting a fight on the first day won’t put her on the commander’s good side.

Not like she cares though - she’s just looking out for herself, in the end.

She easily finds the lowest, darkest part of the sub deck and sets up her cot there; the dim red light is comforting, and she feels for a second like she could be back on omega, instead of some fucking Cerberus ship. Some seedy place full of criminals and low lives, some place where she’d fit in. She’s not a soldier - she’s just a fuck-up. Shepard doesn’t see that.

"I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, convict," she hears the accented voice descend softly down the stairs, echoing through the lower reaches of the ship, until Miranda’s form finally comes into view. Despite the agitated growl that leaves her lips, Jack is more intrigued than annoyed. “Well hell if I know, Cerberus bitch. But what I do know is that you’re not in charge here. Shepard is. And it’s in her best interests to give me what I want. Isn’t that why your little boss-man looked me up in the first place?" She leans her head on the wall, arms plastered to her body, clearly defensive. She hopes the bitch can’t see her shaking. “You need me. Admit it." The false confidence in her voice grates on her ears; Jack is used to having power over people, used to the ease of intimidation. Used to using threats of violence to get her way. Miranda, though, only smiles, wry amusement painted across her face. It’s hot actually - maybe even hotter than the anger that had been there previously. Jack stops, mouth open, as Miranda looks her over; it’s clearly meant in a demeaning way, intended to infuriate her, but instead it leaves her dumbfounded. Jack’s rebuke dies in her throat - she can only watch Miranda watch her. Calculate her. Underestimate her.

"We’ll see about that." And with that, Miranda turns on her heel, giving Jack a fantastic view of her backside, and marches quietly up the stairs.

Jack’s hand relaxes and drops from where it had been clutched at her heart. She can still hear it pounding, or maybe it’s only the sound of the engine.


	5. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's times like these when Jack feels safe.

Jack doesn’t like crowds. People touching, brushing by; watching and hovering and stealing and killing. She doesn’t feel safe, walking with her shoulders hunched and her body rigid. A hand at her pistol. She’ll be safer alone: back on the sub-deck by herself. Or with Miranda, she remembers, Miranda’s fingers running across her scalp or under the leather harness she wears around her breasts. Miranda’s door sliding shut as she lifts jack with her biotics and presses her against the wall, legs tucked around Miranda’s waist. It’s just like being alone, anyway; she doesn’t have to worry about anyone trying to kill her, and she’s as much herself as he can ever remember being. Doesn’t have to act the tough girl and neither does Miranda.

So when her, Shepard, and Kasumi finish their mission on the bustling streets of Illium, Jack can’t help the apprehension that builds inside her; doing dirty work for Shepard’s little girlfriend in the middle of a crowded city is hardly what she’d been recruited for. Hell, unless she’s drinking, she’s supposed to be either in space or in combat, as far as she’s concerned. The people on illium stare you down, and it’s a shock to Jack, who’s learned that keeping your head down and your mouth shut is the best way to blend in and stay alive - even if her temper usually gets the best of her before she can put the knowledge into practice.

Shepard leans over to her when they’re heading back to Liara’s office, laying a hand on the air above her shoulder, careful not to make contact before Jack knows she’s there. “You can head back to the Normandy if you want, Jack. I’m gonna go talk to Liara and Kasumi’s got some illegal stuff to do." She smiles that crooked smile of hers and Kasumi disappears from view with a shimmer of her cloaking device and a “see you later, Shep." Jack nods, giving the commander a mock salute before putting her hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit. “Later. Good luck." Before Shepard can respond, she’s on her way back to the docking bay, eyes on the ground, fists clenched in the material of her pockets until the ship is in sight. She lets out a sigh. Okay.

The door to decontamination slides shut behind her and Jack walks through the comm room to the elevator, body still tense. Traynor glances at her, eyes full of curiosity, and asks, “Where’s the commander?" To which Jack responds, “probably getting laid." Sam looks down quickly, face flushed, but not before Jack sees the disappointment. Oh well.

When she hits the subdeck, she immediately deflates, muscles still tense but breathing less labored, thoughts a little calmer. Feeling better. She lays down on her cot, arms over her face, waiting for the clicking of heels to sound on the metal stairs. After only a moment, her prayers are answered and she lifts her arms, opening her eyes to the sight of Miranda coming towards her, quietly, as if she’ll fall through the floor. “Are you alright?" she whispers, reaching out and touching Jack’s hand, a worried frown on her face. The tattooed woman’s lips quirk upward in a tired smile. “Yeah, just a headache from hearing Shepard talk nonstop. She’s like, delivering Liara’s fucking mail. Fucking whipped." She drops her other hand to her forehead, rubbing her temple and rolling her eyes.

Miranda chuckles, sitting down gingerly next to her and stroking her cheek. “You want to stay down here? It’s darker," she asks, bending down to press their mouths together. Jack knows she hates it down here, would rather be in her cushy office upstairs . When Miranda starts to pull away, she wraps an arm around her neck and looks up at her. “Just for a little while, okay?"

Miranda touches her forehead to Jack’s, and kisses her again, softer. “Alright, move over."


	6. Phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda knows that voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (canon divergent - Miranda is with Shepard in ME3 here, just because)

Phantom

"I’m gonna tear you apart!"

Miranda knows that voice, even if she desperately wishes she didn’t. She knows that voice because it’s whispered her name in the belly of the Normandy a hundred times over, sneaking around behind the back of Shepard and the crew for posterity’s sake. Her, Shepard and Liara make their way through the facility, hearing the voices of Cerberus scientists over the intercom, and a single thought worms its way into Miranda’s brain. There was no way Jack could be here. Unless-

"Aaaaaaghh!" A sickening scream echoes throughout the building and Miranda feels her heart jump, lodging in her throat, barely able to breathe, let alone talk. The winding hallways seem to take hours to navigate, and all the while, that scream echoes over and over in her head.

Finally, they reach an open space, hearing the sound of gunfire, and there she is, standing a few dozen feet in front of them, surrounded by Cerberus troops, recognizable even under the helmet. Even under the armor, that voice rings out, clear as anything, and Miranda freezes, her blood running cold. That voice she hasn’t heard in months, running from Cerberus and tracking down Oriana, only able to communicate with Jack through scattered messages. Until recently, when the channel had gone dark.

And now she knew why. Dammit, she should have known better, should have known what Cerberus was up to. Indoctrination, something that could have just as easily happened to Miranda. Should have happened to Miranda. Not Jack.

Not Jack.

"Miranda! Get down!" She hears Shepard shout, covering her temporarily with a barrier and taking cover herself. Miranda tries to move, but her legs are like lead. That’s not Jack anymore, she tries to tell herself. That’s just a Reaper puppet. That’s the last thing Jack would want to be. Not again, she’d always said. No one is ever going to control me again.

She raises her gun, pointing it at the Phantom’s head, and waits. It charges toward her, weapon in hand.

"I will destroy you!"

Liara’s singularity hits its target and Miranda takes the opportunity, firing a single shot. Her aim is spot-on despite her shaking hands, and the Phantom falls to the ground, blue aura dissipating from around her. _It_ , Miranda tells herself, not _her_. She returns her gun to the holster, standing over the body. “I believe that was Jack,” she hears EDI say from the comm link, and swallows thickly, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall.

"No it wasn’t," she whispers, touching the helmet, wishing it was her instead.


End file.
